


Mistletoe & Misunderstandings

by usuallysunny



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Kisses, Mistletoe, Post-Episode: s02e08 Trip to Stabby Town, Season 2, jealous Chloe Decker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:07:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28179597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usuallysunny/pseuds/usuallysunny
Summary: Chloe had believed him when he said his relationship with Ella Lopez was strictly professional.So why was he standing in her lab, his lips pressed to hers in a veryunprofessional kiss? And why did it make Chloe want to scream, an emotion she refused to recognise as jealousy clawing at her throat?“Detective,” he purred, delighted, “are you jealous?”
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 10
Kudos: 306





	Mistletoe & Misunderstandings

Chloe stared at the sight in-front of her, her eyes wide and shocked.

It was the same shock she had felt nigh on a month ago at Lucifer’s penthouse, when the elevator doors had whistled open and she saw Ella wrapped up in his arms. She remembered the day after in the precinct, standing in this exact spot, as she confronted him about it and he’d _promised_ the relationship was strictly platonic.

_“Well, much as I love to cross professional boundaries, Detective,” he had crooned, “I can assure you everything you saw was entirely work related.”_

_Chloe had blinked at him, rolling her shoulders and adjusting her jacket a little awkwardly. She tried to ignore the wave of relief that washed over her, tried to pretend it was something else—mere gratitude that her ridiculous partner was keeping his sex life out of the office, of course._

_“Is that… is that the truth?”_

_“Always the truth,” his voice was strangely soft, gentle, like he was imploring her to finally reach some conclusion she couldn’t quite get to, “point of pride for me, Detective.”_

She’d believed him—so _why_ was he now in said lab tech’s office, his tongue down her throat?

Maybe that was a _little_ dramatic.

She could see them through the glass as she stood dumbly in the bullpen, a clipboard of case files clutched to her chest.

He didn’t _really_ have his tongue down her throat.

It was a simple, short, closed mouth kiss—but it was a kiss nonetheless.

 _Why_ was he kissing her?

 _Why_ was she kissing him?

And _why_ did the sight of it make Chloe want to scream?

An ugly emotion she refused to recognise as jealousy bubbled in the pit of her stomach. It stirred and licked at her insides, travelling up until it strangled her throat.

She saw them break apart, saw Ella’s beaming smile and his answering grin. It resonated in Chloe’s chest, a dull ache that made her uncomfortable. Ella turned away and went back to her microscope and Chloe read Lucifer’s lips, a little “ _lovely”_ uttered under his breath as he gave a casual tug on his suit jacket.

Chloe’s finely honed instincts went into overdrive as she analysed the kiss. She chewed on her nail as she did so, staring like a maniac. It was nothing passionate, she tried to console herself (and ignored why she _needed_ consoling). It had been chaste and perfunctory, just a short touch of lips on lips.

Her relief at that morphed into stress as she began to overthink. 

What if that meant they didn’t _need_ to have their hands all over each other? What if this simple gesture was worse than any steamy make out session because it was just _them_ , wanting to be around each other, just touching for the sake of touching?

Chloe was sure he hadn’t seen her so it wasn’t about making her jealous either. He wasn’t trying to prove a point or hurt her. It wasn’t about her. Maybe he didn’t want to be partners anymore. Maybe he wanted to leave and start a new life with Ella. Maybe he wanted her.

Maybe he _loved_ her.

Chloe needed to lie down.

Her stomach was in knots by the time Lucifer left the lab and appeared in-front of her.

“Oh hello Detective,” he crooned, his eyes sweeping over her as his brow arched, “are you alright? you look rather… _frazzled_.”

She swallowed, his presence electrifying and warming the air around her. Sometimes she was jealous of the calm energy he carried with him, the confidence he exuded as he commanded the attention of any room he walked into.

She _was_ frazzled. She was tired. She was sick of pretending they were just friends, that she was immune to him, and if he _was_ with Ella, she knew she’d have to say she didn’t care, and that made her a little sick too.

She felt upset and confused and angry and she wanted him to leave and she wanted him to stay—because even though he hurt her, he was the only one who made her feel better too.

Her head was spinning.

Fight or flight kicked in and she chose the latter. She huffed and tried to push past him, only for him to gently close his fingers around her wrist and pull her right back.

“No you don’t,” he said easily, “that ridiculous vein in your forehead is pulsing larger than ever. What’s wrong?”

She scoffed and clenched her teeth and he gleefully added—

“There goes the jaw,” he pointed to that muscle that always leapt when she was angry, “ _oh_ , and the quintessential eyeroll! The trifecta.”

She schooled her expression into neutrality.

“I thought you said there was nothing going on between you and Ella,” she sniffed, trying to keep her voice unaffected, even as she clutched the clipboard tighter to her chest.

He faltered, a look of surprise flickering over his features. His lips parted, his brow arching as he glanced to the lab behind him.

When he turned back to her, Chloe practically saw the moment the lightbulb went off.

His lips twisted into that smooth, characteristic grin as he realised what this was all about.

“Detective,” he purred, delighted, “are you jealous?”

“Me? _Jealous?_ ” a scoff rolled from the back of her throat, “ _please_. I told you before—who you sleep with is none of my business.”

His expression was the same as before, a mixture of intrigued and bemused.

“What’s got your knickers in such a twist then?”

“It’s _inappropriate,_ ” she hissed through gritted teeth, “especially in the office. I put myself on the line for you, Lucifer, and you can’t go around _kissing_ our colleagues in the workplace.”

“We were hardly shagging on top of the test tubes,” he replied, amused, “or going at it like bunnies against the evidence table, or—”

“—okay!” she held a hand up, knowing that he was likely imagining both of those things right now, “that’s not the point. It’s totally unprofessional.”

He must have seen how stressed she was, how serious, because his voice was gentle when he said—

“I’m teasing you, darling.”

She sighed, placing the clipboard she was holding down on the desk next to her. She rolled her eyes when the clip got caught up in some tinsel, the facilities department having gone a little overboard on the Christmas decorations this year.

Early December had been a testosterone fuelled nightmare as Lucifer and Dan argued over who got to be the office Santa.

 _“Hello! Satan, Santa?”_ he’d exclaimed, outraged, “ _it’s literally an anagram. I was made for this, Detective!”_

She’d ignored him, her patience with his metaphors growing thin. His interest, however, quickly waned once she stared flatly at a ridiculous whiteboard filled with ideas for a _naughty Santa, bad Santa_ and even a _naked Santa_ and forbade every one _._ He’d declared the position boring and handed it to Dan.

If she were in a better mood, she would admit that the precinct—covered in bright colours and tinsel and twinkling lights—looked nice. But she was hardly feeling festive, an anger that deep down, she knew she didn’t have any right to feel still coursing through her.

“Detective,” his voice brought her back to earth, “just look.”

She frowned, her gaze following his as he drew her attention to the lab.

Through the glass, Chloe watched, stunned, as Ella bounced on her toes and kissed _Dan_ this time.

It was another short, chaste, friendly kiss and Chloe turned to Lucifer, utterly confused.

He was grinning, the _bastard_ , and finally pointed up to the ceiling.

“Look above Miss Lopez’ head.”

She did and then noticed something she had been blind to before.

 _Mistletoe_.

She stared at the festive decoration like she could burn a hole in it.

“Oh.”

Lucifer’s smirk widened.

“Yes. _Oh_.”

Her anger quickly morphed into humiliation. She had never been this sort of woman, jealous and possessive. She’d never struggled with any of these feelings when she was with Dan. They were very new, very hard to understand, and she tried to run away again—this time, straight into the interrogation room.

Annoyingly, predictably, Lucifer was right behind her.

The click as he closed the door penetrated the silence.

“What’s going on, Detective?” he asked, his low accent lined with seriousness this time, “why do you even care?”

She bristled, emotions she couldn’t even begin to decipher swirling for precedence inside her. She felt relief that the kiss was just Ella being _Ella—_ she was bubbly and bright and _of course_ she would hang mistletoe around her lab.

She then felt worried at _why_ she was relieved, knowing it was because she wanted him.

The realisation hit her square in the chest, overwhelming and depressingly predictable. Something had been brimming under the surface between them, just the flicker of a flame, ready to ignite. She had felt it stir when she hugged him in her kitchen, his body tensing beneath her before it relaxed.

The way he moved, the way he smiled, the way he made her laugh when she didn’t even realise she needed to—it all rattled her.

She _was_ jealous.

He was looking in her in a way that was heavy and significant, like he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking. The air was thin and tense, thrumming white hot between them.

“I don’t,” she answered finally, “I _don’t_ care. Who you sleep with is none of my business.”

“Yes, you said that already.”

Her cheeks were burning, the setting fitting because she felt very under interrogation indeed.

“I mean it! Go ahead and _shag like bunnies in the evidence closet_ for all I care,” she put on a frankly abysmal imitation of his accent before she added, “if you want to kiss someone, _fine_! Kiss someone but—”

He stole the next words out of her mouth by closing the gap between them and doing just that.

She gasped against his lips, her inhale of surprise smothered by his kiss. She let her mind go blank as she surrendered to it, melting against him. His hands came up to gently cup her face, the metal of his ring a cool balm against her burning skin. He swallowed the moan she didn’t mean to make, her own hands clutching at the lapels of his expensive jacket. She tugged him closer, revelling in the pleased little hum that rolled from his chest.

His lips were soft and firm, teasing hers open with just the right amount of pressure. His sexual prowess was hardly a secret and she knew he’d be a good kisser, but this was better than she’d ever imagined— _not that she’d imagined it, of course_.

He tasted like whiskey and smoke and something sweeter—and she never wanted to stop.

Her eyes were still closed when he broke the kiss.

They fluttered open, her heart in her throat, and she _swore—_ he’d never looked at her that way before. His eyes were dark and intense, like she was the only thing he could see.

“You did tell me to,” he quipped, his thumb swiping over her cheekbone.

She heard her own words echoing in her mind.

_If you want to kiss someone, kiss someone._

“There is nothing, nor will there ever _be_ anything, between me and Miss Lopez,” he said quietly.

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, giddy and afraid and above all, _crazy_ about him.

“Really?”

He looked at her like she was mad, like it was _obvious_ , and maybe it was.

Maybe it always had been.

“It’s you, darling,” he murmured, “it’s always been you.”

She sighed, leaning into his touch as he cupped her cheek. She looked at him, from the strong line to his jaw, to the way he filled out his expensive, black suit and she couldn’t believe that maybe she could call him _hers_. If she gave in, if he stopped being scared… maybe they could both have everything they’d ever wanted.

“You mean that?” she asked warily, “you do kiss a _lot_ of women…”

His mouth twitched, amused but also a little melancholy.

“Yes, but none of them were _you_ ,” he said, “don’t you know how special you are, Detective?”

She supposed she did, that what was between them was undeniable. She couldn’t help but notice he used the past tense when talking about other women—and it was time she stopped fighting whatever this was between them.

“What do we do now then?” she asked, strangely nervous.

“We go back to the penthouse,” he hummed, winding an arm around her waist, and his smile was blinding when he added, “I think it’s time we revisited that _naughty Santa_ idea, don’t you?”


End file.
